


Of Blood And Bones

by Seliria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, BAMF Stiles, Family Secrets, M/M, Steter Secret Santa 2020, Stiles is something else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seliria/pseuds/Seliria
Summary: 'There was once a man whose name lies forgotten in the depths of our minds. He was cursed to never die, to always rise again, to be caught in a never ending circle of rebirth. He was born from hell, crawled through ashes and bones to the very top and build himself a throne. He blessed our ancestors with the Otherness through gifting his seed to my bisavola.'
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 18
Kudos: 189





	Of Blood And Bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lautremonde (mockspeed)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockspeed/gifts).



> This is my gift in the Steter Secret Santa for Lautremonde over on tumblr.  
> I really hope you like it and it suits your wishes (as well as anybody else who reads this :) )

**Of Blood And Bones**

____

' _Mama_ , will you tell me about your family?'

'Of course, _tesoro_.'

____

When he was younger, he used to hang out with Jackson.

Jackson always had this, let's say, darker something about him. The way his smile would sharpen when he talked down on somebody, his eyes would gleam when the light fell right.

Something called to him, so he seeked Jackson out.

After Jackson came Lydia.

Or rather, one day Jackson came back with Lydia and after that it was always them three.

Lydia's mind was warped.

She was smart, so, so smart. Wielding her mind like a weapon she thought of everything all at once, never stopping, never looking back. Focused on her goal, on her destination, never minding who she destroyed in her path for domination.

They were of the same mind.

____

'You have to know, _tesoro_ , it runs in the family. Never try to resist, it's a part of who you are.'

____

When he was eight, his mother grew ill. The doctors called it frontotemporal dementia.

He knows better.

She resisted. That's what made her sick. It crazed her mind, made her paranoid, made her think he was going to kill her.

So she tried to kill him first.

In his defense something surged in him, something dark. It coiled around his fingertips, lashed out, devoured her as she tried to squeeze the life out of him.

He was choking to death, slowly, oh so slowly. Some part of him reveling in the way light danced in his vision as the world faded to black, blood tasting like ash in his mouth.

As his limbs grew heavier, he was embraced by darkness, floating in nothing, but feeling like drowning all together.

The lack of oxygen was like a spark to a dry forest for him.

Tendrils of black smoke whispered into existence, warping around his arms, his hands, his fingers. Dancing over his mothers hand and burning her flesh away wherever it touched.

A gasp of air, violent in it's nature, and he screamed.

The black smoke exploded, pouring out of him in dark waves grasping everything they could reach and melting whatever they touched. The hospital bed was thrown into the far wall of the room, books went flying, the mirror on the door shattered, the clatter being the only sound in the room for a second before everything seemed to stop.

The smoke came back full force, slammed into him, pushing his mother violently away.

Her head made a satisfying crack as she met the wall, falling limply down, like a broken puppet with her strings snapped.

It was over in a matter of seconds, and all he could do was staring at her in fascination.

Nurses came rushing in, having heard the screams and commotion. There was fretting and fussing, he endured everything without moving a muscle in his face. Blinking stoically at his mothers dead face. And all he could think was 'It's your fault alone that you're dead. You could have stopped that, shouldn't have resisted. It's a part of you, you always told me that.'

The there was his father, tears in his eyes, tie askew, and he never threw a glance towards his son, screaming for his wive, not believing what she tried. Never mind the bruises on his sons neck already forming, purple hand prints of hands that once caressed the face so lovingly that they just tried to strangle so merciless. He didn't notice the passive expression on his son when the nurse ushered him out of the room to get him somewhere else to treat them.

____

After that it was hard to keep the Otherness in check, being surrounded by Jackson and Lydia didn't help. Their own Otherness always egging his on, teasing his in a way his mother never could, before.

So he let himself float away from them, let them grow apart, looked for other people to spend time together and found solace in Scott. Scott, whose mother was one of the nurses present the day his mother died (the day he killed his mother, just like she thought he would do, and it didn't disgust him in the least).

They spend their time with innocent stuff like playing on various consoles, reading comics, geeking out over recent TV-shows. He let Scott dictate how they spend their free time, not caring what they did.

He never tried to resist his Otherness though, curbing it down to a minimal level yes, but never completely repressing it. It showed the way he handled Scott's bullies. When his eyes would grow brighter, bleeding into molten gold, teeth sharpening, his smile twisted and promising. In the way his shadow grew taller, whispery and wavering, moving on it's own.

There was a reason only Jackson dared to badger Scott.

Lydia would always shake her head and murmur in his ear in passing. 'You were much more fun before you decided to stick to that boy. You know he's not like us, why even bother with him? You could be so much more. The world would lay itself before our feet.'

____

And then there was a body in the woods.

By this time the relationship with his father had soured to a point where they only saw each other in passing. His father so wrapped up in his work, in his grief for his wive, that he failed to notice his son over the years. Failed to notice his old friendships falling away only to make room for Scott. Never picking up on the way his son played people into believing what he wanted, how smart he was, battling for valedictorian with Lydia. Never picking up on the Otherness that lived within his son, that it showed as small tendrils when he was agitated, as a raging inferno of whispers and smoke when he raged or as a small companion when he was feeling mournful.

Something called to him, so he went and collected Scott. Together they explored the forest, trekked through mud and rain until they found her. Or what was left of her at least.

And even though he knew something was coming, he still wasn't completely prepared for the monstrous being crashing through the woods, all shiny teeth and glimmering red eyes.

Recognizing the werewolf as it was, he stepped sideways, knowing it wouldn't harm him, not with his Otherness at his fingertips, ready to strike back. With a dispassionate glance he watched as the beast mauled Scott, giving him the bite that would change his life forever.

Turning to him, something resonated between boy and wolf, calling them together and his gaze grew sharp as he studied the beast. There was a memory nagging in the back of his head, nearly there, still out of reach. The wolf in turn seemed to consider him, something akin to remembrance entering his piercing glare. Throwing his head back the wolf howled, turned on his paws and prowled back into the woods.

____

'You have to know, there are more supernatural beings out there than us. All kinds of shifters, witches, druids. Always remember to treat them with respect, they could proove to be useful, but never forget you are still different than the rest. _Mio tesoro_ , _mio sangue_ , our blood calls for a throne. I am certain you will obtain your rightful place in time.'

' _Mama_ , why have you no throne then, if it is what our blood calls us to?'

'Because I do not wish to have one. But you are born for one. I see it in your soul.'

____

Meeting Peter Hale in person rather that as a wolf was different from everything he had experienced to that date. So intoxicating and tempting, his Otherness practically dancing under his skin, threatening to break out any moment, any second.

'You must be Stiles then.'

'And you are Peter Hale.'

'You know who I am? Standing here not cowering in fear. I should have chosen you, you'd make a fine wolf.' A smile with a hint of teeth, glinting blue eyes.

'I'd never turn, it's not possible for my kind. But that's beside the point right know. I have information you would be very interested in, I believe.'

'How very fascinating.' A pause, a contemplating look crossing the handsome face. 'What kind of information?'

'Kate Argent. I have everything on her.'

'Do tell.'

____

When Peter came to himself, it was dark, he was disorientated, didn't even know what date it was.

What he did know was the calling of blood to his blood, reverberating in his veins. Half out of his mind, unhinged with broken bonds he shifts and escapes through a window.

Frantic movement, the discovery of a trail that belongs to bond breakers, he prowls through the woods, locking in on the target.

No time for a long hunt, no need for dragging out the inevitable. Swift movements, tearing through skin and bones, blood splattering on his fur, covering the ground.

The surge of power crashes through him. He can feel the shift from omega to beta to alpha. Right target then.

His mind seems to mend back together, stronger than ever. Not to say he's sane, just a little bit less insane than before. Able to think more clear, more rational. The need for vengeance is still there, though. Still as strong as ever, as before his mind teared by the breaking bonds of his pack in a time where the bonds where unstable still.

Vengeance is his right.

Bur for retribution he needs a new pack, more bonds, to make him more stable. He doesn't want to risk it all by going in unprepared.

Luck comes to him in form of two young adults.

One smells sick and frail, he could surely use the strength and health given by the bite.

The other one smells different than anything his nose has picked up in the last years. He faintly remembers the fragrance of darkness, blood and cinnamon from a time before the craziness. The smell seeps into him, wraps around his core, his soul and seems to mend the cracks in his mind.

He still bites the sick one (even though he later regrets it with all he has) and his pack grows.

It's time to hunt.

____

When he meets Stiles the first time in person he is instantly attracted to him. The way he seems to glow with unspent power, the seductive calling of his might and, as it turns out a beautiful, beautiful mind. Full of cunning and plans, of tactical maneuvers to bring as many enemies to fall as possible with minimal effort on his side.

But the readiness to shed blood if the need arises, to dirty his hands, that is what is truly delicious about this boy.

And the moment Stiles opens his mouth, he knows Stiles will be his obsession.

____

They work well together.

Stiles and Peter.

But as well as they worked as one, they know they need more help in their endeavor. So Stiles looses the reigns on his Otherness and follows the call back to Jackson and Lydia, leaving Scott in Derek's more or less capable hands.

They step back into a unit frighteningly easy, as if there was never a rift in their circle, as if they didn't take a 10 year break.

It's even more fearsome how simple it is to integrate Peter.

They plan, they scheme, they pursue their suspects.

____

' _Mama_ , what purpose do people like us have?'

'You are to inspire fear, the people shouldn't get to full of themselves. There has to be a reminder that there is always someone or something more sinister than them out there. Bring them terror, unleash hell on them, _tesoro_ , for that is what our ancestors came to earth for.'

'Our ancestors, _Mama_?'

'There was once a man whose name lies forgotten in the depths of our minds. He was cursed to never die, to always rise again, to be caught in a never ending circle of rebirth. He was born from hell, crawled through ashes and bones to the very top and build himself a throne. He blessed our ancestors with the Otherness through gifting his seed to my _bisavola_.'

____

When Stiles first met Allison it was lunch time. Sitting at his usual table, nowadays waiting for Jackson and Lydia instead of Scott, he thumbed through his calculus book, bored out of his mind.

He had observed her for quite some time, noticing how she and Scott seemed attached at the hip ever since they met. He had to admit to a certain curiosity as to why she would approach him.

Without an invitation Allison sat down on his table.

'I'm going to make this short. I know what is happening around this town and I am not going to let you ge through with you plans. My aunt most certainly had her reasons for doing what she did, and I can honestly understand why she would want to wipe out these beasts. So take this as your one and only warning. If you so much as to twitch wrong, there's a lot of hunters going to town here.'

'That's cute coming from the girl who dates a werewolf.'

'He's different. He didn't want the bite. Scott's doing everything in his power to help us get rid of this werewolf plague, starting with Peter Hale . We're also looking for are cure for him, so shove it.'

Stiles' pleasant expression was shadowed by something unreadable, before turning into a terrifying sneer. Shadows stretching, freezing Allison in her motion. His tone changed from friendly to unyielding.

'If you so much as to hurt a hair on Peter, I will hunt every single one of you down and tear you apart from limb to limb. I will laugh in your face as I dance in the blood of you family. Just so we're clear.'

He would never accept anybody hurting, or even threatening what was his.

Putting on his friendly smile, he let her go and she fled with an angry expression.

____

'It is somewhat admirable that you held out this long without us, Stiles.'

'Coming from you, I take that as an compliment, Lydia.'

'You shouldn't.'

They traded smirks as Jackson groaned from Lydia's right side. 'I see nothing has changed.'

____

The unfortunate lunch time meeting with Allison followed a flurry of hunter activity in Beacon Hills. Taking the threat on their daughter serious, Chris and Victoria decided they needed every man they could get their hands on there as fast as possible. Soon there were clusters of two to four hunters patrolling the reservation and the surrounding woods, looking for suspicious werewolf activity.

Peter and Stiles took them out with ease, leaving Jackson and Lydia to their date nights, and making the hunter get hunted to their own sort of dates.

Peter tearing through them effortlessly in wolf form, Stiles ripping them apart with dark tendrils made of darkness.

Stiles sinks his hand in Peters fur, slick with blood and gore, lovingly caressing his ears, his snout, the sides of his face and pressing a kiss on the top of his nose.

Having given in the temptation of Stiles weeks ago, the wolf licks blood out of Stiles' face, nuzzling his neck in some resemblance of token hug.

Getting down from the high of Adrenalin is always hard, and controlling his Otherness even more so after a good fight.

But Peter helps in a way no one could before.

Laying on the ground Peter licks him clean, brings him to an edge he can never step back from. This haze of lust and want is too much as he writhes under the wolf turned man again. Peter mouths his neck, teeth to sharp to be truly human, grazing his skin, trailing bloody marks down his torso. Caught in an intoxicated state Stiles can only moan and whimper with every harsh thrust Peter does.

He doesn't remember much from the aftermath, just Peter carrying him home. It was ridiculous easy, with the help from Jackson's lawyer, to get Peter out and about the hospital and get the inheritance money back that Laura splurged so freely without a care for Peter.

____

When Kate comes into town they know this is it. Their chance at finally getting rid of the thorn in their sides she resembles.

It is laughingly easy to lure her into a trap. For all that the spews big words out of her mouth she is dumb as a worm when it comes to smelling an ambush.

Stiles being the safeguard for a possible escape, Peter takes great pleasure in ripping Kate apart and her throat out. The pieces are burned and the ashes thrown into the wind.

____

After all is said and done and the pitiful remnants of hunters have left, they have the sovereignty of Beacon Hills.

Stiles build his throne of blood and bones and rules with his Alpha by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this came from.


End file.
